


You're Gone and I Gotta Stay High

by aliveinvividity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Derek doesn't reappear in this fic, It's not just because of Derek, M/M, Rated T for language, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4522905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliveinvividity/pseuds/aliveinvividity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What is wrong with you!?" Scott finally demands, slapping the metallic cigarette from his hand. </p><p>Stiles motions to the mess of junk and dirty clothes surrounding him. "Absolutely nothing, Scotty. Derek's gone, and you know what? I don't even care anymore."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Gone and I Gotta Stay High

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry. I just really miss Derek. It's just not the same without him anymore.
> 
> This was based off the song Habits by Tove Lo and a random gif set I saw on Tumblr. I'll link it on here next time I see it/ if I can find it.

Stiles didn't expect it to affect him so much. He didn't even think he'd actually care- he'd just continue doing what he did without grumpy wolf in the picture.

He was so wrong.

Maybe the feelings he didn't even know he _had_ , developed when he held the guy up for literally three hours straight in a pool that was eight feet deep. Or maybe they developed when they were in Deaton's office, Derek on the verge of death. Or maybe it was when he was on the verge of death in that elevator and Stiles had to beat him back to consciousness. Maybe it was all those days they spent researching together, arguing together, giving each other curious glances...

So when he left them so abruptly- when he left _Stiles_ , Stiles just... just _broke_.

He can't really explain it. Honestly, he was perfectly fine the first few days after his departure, but now he isn't. And that's all there really is to it.

So now he's back to what he used to do best; smoking it up every weekend. Well. More like every single day.

His dad was always at his office, so he'd never even know.

It was nice and numbing. The world was much easier to take in, and thoughts of broody glares and unique eyes began to leave his mind.

School was also pretty easy. The days flew right over his head and he always managed a big, dopey grin. He knew his friends knew something was up, with the way they kept giving him confused/worried glances. He was also sure their werewolfy/kitsuney/werecoyotey senses picked up the smell of marijuana. And you know what? He didn't even care.

His grades were still fine, his sleeping pattern remained the same ( _which was around three hours of rest_ , _if he was lucky_ ), and he still managed to stay in contact with his friends.

But when he got home- _God_ , when he got home... His dad was always at work and that left Stiles all alone.

So alone.

He sits down on his bed, the mattress groaning loudly under his weight. Stiles looks around the room, eyes taking everything in. The dust motes, trash on the floor, his clothing strewn about, the billboard with so many clueless clues.

Rubbing at his eyes, he sighs in an exhausted manner.

This was his life. Face near death experiences every freakin' week and then come home and act like nothing had even happened and that he was okay.

It was getting so tiring, having to put up that act.

So now he was going to do that thing he does best.

The fake cigarette is cool between his fingertips and it's cool when he puts it to his lips. The lighter lights easily, he does it so often now, and he inhales deeply when the weed ignites.

Stiles takes a long drag when he sets down the lighter- a long, good one, and holds it for a while. The burn in his throat and lungs feels nice, and his head is already beginning to feel doozy.

This was some good shit.

Kudos to his dealer.

He lets it out slowly, a big cloud of smoke leaving his lips. Stiles feels his eyelids droop and he smiles lightly.

This was some _really_ good shit.

He loses time after that, taking drag after drag and laughing at nothing. Music filters through his boggled head after a while, and he vaguely wonders when he even turned his iPod on. But then he wonders why he even cares and laughs some more.

And then Scott's suddenly in his field of vision and he gives his best friend his greatest O face of surprise.

"Scott, my brother from another mother," he sings, cupping the other's face. "Since when did you get in my life happenstances?" Stiles then plant a big kiss on one of his cheeks.

Scott's frowning, he suddenly realizes, when he pushes Stiles away.

"Stiles," he says, frown increasing. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but this needs to stop."

Stiles wrinkles up his nose, snorting.

"I'm being serious." Scott shuts his music off.

"Was that really necessary, you great, big artichoke?" He's pointing both at his iPod and at Scott. "You're ruining the mood, friend."

Scott sits down on the bed and faces him. "We need to talk, Stiles."

Stiles scoffs, looking off to the side.

"Your chemo signals are going crazy, you smell like weed every single day..." Scott trails off, brows furrowing. "Stiles, I'm- _we're_ worried about you."

He's still avoiding eye contact as he replies, "I'm _fine_." He picks up the cigarette for another drag. "Now go away, please."

"Stiles," Scott tries for his attention, as Stiles cleans out the filter of any bad weed. " _Stiles_."

Stiles gives the tip of the object a particularly hard tap. "I said _fuck off_."

"What is _wrong_ with you!?" Scott finally demands, slapping the metallic cigarette from his hand.

Stiles can't even find it in himself to be frustrated with the outburst, and motions to the mess of junk and dirty clothes surrounding him. "Absolutely nothing, Scotty. Derek's gone, and you know what? I don't even care anymore."

His friend stares at him for a while after that, even as Stiles retrieves the thing he came here to stop Stiles from using in the first place. "This is," he trails off for a few seconds, before continuing. "All of this is because of _Derek_?"

Stiles clenches his jaw and stops cleaning out the filter. His eyes then meet Scott's. "It could also be because of almost dying every single day, but what else is new, huh?" He taps the filter again, and then chuckles, almost hysterically. "I'm not going to make it to college, Scott. I'm going to fucking die from some weird ass monster because I was dragged into _your_ fucking problems." Which is a total lie, Stiles knows. He got here on his own. But he continues. "And then you always gotta play the hero. 'Everyone's good, everyone deserves a second chance, Stiles'," he mocks.

"Because everyone _does_ deserve a second chance, Stiles!" Scott yells, now hovering defensively over the bed. "Would you have preferred I killed you when the Nogitsune was possessing you instead of giving you a second chance!?"

Now Stiles is standing. "Yeah, actually, I would have! I killed so many people Scott, and you let it continue because you were too weak to kill me! And now this whole thing with _Theo_!?" Stiles shakes his head, teeth clenched together tightly. "If Derek were here, he would agree with how _shitty_ an alpha you've been!"

A flash of hurt passes through Scott's eyes, and then they harden into a glare. "At least I'm not falling apart and wasting away in bed everyday! At least I can hold down a job and keep my friends close because I have a little thing called **_trust_**!"

And that's what does it.

Stiles nose burns with the warning of tears and he can't stop them from falling.

He plops down on the bed and begins furiously rubbing at his traitorous eyes. " _Fuck you_ , man."

The other sighs, eyes softening. "I'm sorry." He sits at the end of the bed. "I shouldn't have said that."

Stiles waves his hand dismissively, head hanging low. A tear trails down his nose and hangs at his nostril before falling with a soft 'plop'. "Me too. I'm sorry." He looks up at his friend. "I'm just tired, Scott."

They sit like that for a few minutes, nothing but their silence keeping them company.

"I just don't understand why he left," Stiles finally says, breaking this awful silence.

Scott awkwardly picks at random fuzzies that are covering his mattress. "Stiles, he wasn't happy in Beacon Hills. You know that."

Stiles shakes his head, frown tightening. "He wouldn't just leave. Not after everything we've been through. Not without saying goodbye," he chokes out.

Scott looks up then, confused. "He would. He did. Why do you care so much, anyway?"

Stiles swallows thickly, eyes flickering around his bedroom. "Because I..." He can't bring himself to finish it. He can't even believe it himself. Stiles actually loved him. He loved that grumpy sourwolf and he wanted him to come back.

He looks up, gauging Scott's reaction.

"I miss him, too," is what he has to say. Stiles wants to laugh at the point he just missed. "We all miss him." Scott shrugs, a little smile beginning to grow on his face. "Sure, he was a bit forward and... growley and angry and always glaring at everyone, but he was a good guy who always meant well."

Stiles sniffs, rubbing at his eyes for the hundredth time that night. "This is really harshing my buzz right now."

Scott chuckles and stands. "Come on."

Stiles stares at him, confused. "What?"

"I was holding a sleepover tonight. Everyone's gonna be there." He holds out his hand. "Now, come on."

Stiles laughs sadly, taking his friend's hand.

••

Everyone greets him with a smile- no hugs, no looks of sympathy.

He knows they can smell his over-emotional chemo signals, so he appreciates that they don't mention anything.

It ends up being a great night, and Stiles manages to forget that wonderful, grumpy face for the first time in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: sterek-is-good-sterek-is-our-pal
> 
> Send me one-shot requests! I take Hannigram/Sterek/Steter requests. Hell, mention a ship I might possibly know, and I'll write a one-shot between them. Lord only knows that I need to warm up when it comes to writing.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this, love. <3


End file.
